


Weasley and Wood

by LinSpinner



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-05-15 10:27:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5782795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinSpinner/pseuds/LinSpinner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Through Charlie's and Oliver's mutual love for quidditch, they discovered they had another shared love- love for each other. A peek into what they might be up to nowadays followed by how their relationship led to that point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How it Ends

An owl flew in the cabin window. It was a small tawny owl that landed gently on the table in front of Charlie and his uneaten lunch. He drummed his fingers on the table top and looked from the plate to the owl to Oliver sitting across from him.

"Well, this is it," Charlie said and his voice trembled. He tried to untie the letter from the owl's leg but his large, stubby fingers couldn't unto the string. He threw his hands up in frustration and told Oliver, "Here, you do it."

Oliver reached over and untied the string. Holding the letter, Hogwarts crest side facing Charlie, he asked coyly, "And do you want to read it or shall I?" A grin filled his face.

Charlie picked up a fork and began fiddling with the potatoes. "Oh just read it," He sighed.

This was the letter he'd been waiting weeks for, ever since it had become known that Hagrid was retiring and the position of Care of Magical Creatures professor would be available. Teaching wasn't exactly what Charlie had in mind, but after getting seriously burned by an angry Norwegian Ridgeback, a change would probably be best. He'd miss Romania horribly, but the Forbidden Forest and lake at Hogwarts would have to do.

Oliver broke the seal and unfolded the letter. He looked from Charlie to the letter and back to Charlie before saying, "Here goes nothing." Then he read, "'Dear Mr. Weasley, I would first like to thank you for your application to teach at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in this coming year. Your qualifications are exemplary. Secondly, I am pleased to inform you-'"

Charlie cut him off with a loud, "Yes!" as he threw his head back, face towards the roof, "Give it here." He reached out a hand to continue reading for himself.

Oliver passed him the paper and Charlie picked up the reading, "-pleased to inform you that your position will begin with the start of the term and upon receiving your return owl. Signed, Frey Tremlett-Claverdon, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Grand Sorcerer, Order of Merlin Second Class." He finished reading in a rush and threw the paper onto the table so forcefully that it startled the owl.

Oliver smiled, "Knew you'd make it." He stood up, walked over to the counter, picked something out of a tin, and returned to the table, giving the owl a treat. As soon as it ate it, the owl took off once again, disappearing out the window and into the sky.

Charlie couldn't stop grinning. Finally he had something to do again. For the past few years, since returning indefinitely from Romania, his life consisted of cheering on Oliver in matches and watching his hoard of nieces and nephews grow up.

But then Oliver had a run-in with a rather aggressive bludger. It ended his professional career since his shoulder would never be the same despite the best healers at St. Mungo's. The one upside to that incident had been that the two of them had more time to spend together, without running all over the country.

So there they were, a pair of injured, middle-aged guys in search of something to do with the rest of their lives. And then the news reached them of Hagrid's retirement. Charlie immediately sent his application, which had launched the waiting that had just ended.

Unfortunately, now they were thrown into another problematic situation. Charlie realized this before, and had tried to talk about it, but each time Oliver changed the topic, brushing his questions aside. Now, Charlie knew it couldn't wait any longer. He asked, "So what's next? We knew this could be coming. And it's here. I'm going to have to live somewhere much closer to Hogwarts."

Neither of them ever expected to find love, so now that they had, it was something they didn't want to lose. Somehow, they had to make it work.

When they were at Hogwarts, Charlie, a few years older than Oliver, hadn't really known the younger student off the quidditch pitch. And both of them, especially Oliver, had been the quiet, studious type. But then they ran into each other at the Moldova World Cup.

Afterwards, neither of them could pick out what exactly it was that drew them to each other. Maybe it was their similar personalities. Maybe it was their admiration of each other's quidditch skills. Whatever it was, it worked, and had been working for about a decade, despite the distance at times.

Sitting at the table, Oliver sighed. He didn't want to admit it, even to himself, that he'd secretly wished at times that Charlie wouldn't get the job. Since his accident, Oliver didn't have a clue what he was going to do; it wasn't something he thought he'd have to prepare for. When the opportunity came along for Charlie, he tried to ignore his sporadic jealousy the best he could.

Finally Oliver replied, running his hand through his hair, "I- I haven't a good idea."

Charlie had given this some thought, "What about Hogsmeade? Maybe not in the village, but near it?"

Oliver shrugged. Yes, Hogsmeade was nice, but a little too quaint unless one actually had something to do there. He ran his hand through his hair a few more times and avoided looking at Charlie. At long last, he looked up and said, "I need to be blunt."

Charlie's eyes grew wide and he stretched his arm out across the table, subtly offering Oliver his hand, "Sure… What's wrong?"

"I don't want us to end up separated again."

Charlie smiled slightly, and furrowed his eyebrows in slight confusion, "But we won't. Of course you'd come too."

Oliver didn't get angry very often, but the frustrations that he'd held in since Charlie first applied for the job conglomerated and spilled out, "It's all very well for you, but what about me? What will I do? We both know you're not content doing nothing, and why on earth should I be?"

Pulling his hand back, Charlie crossed his arms on the table in front of himself and started at them. Deep down, he knew Oliver was right. It wouldn't be fair asking him to move as well. Currently, although he still wasn't doing anything, at least they were doing nothing together.

After a long silence and a deep sigh, Charlie replied as he looked up slightly, "Know what? You're right…" He shook his head slightly, "I won't accept right away. I'll think about it for a couple days, see if we can't come up with some solution. Okay?" He stretched his hand back across the table.

Oliver looked at it for a moment without speaking. His face was expressionless and Charlie couldn't tell what was going on behind his eyes. At last, Oliver took Charlie's hand and met his gaze, saying, "Right, then."

The pair sat their for a moment, tanned, rough hand in tanned, scarred hand before getting on with their afternoon of babysitting Lily and Hugo. Besides taking the youngest kids out of their parents' hair for a few hours, the pair enjoyed the excitement and energy that came with it. Charlie knew he had to find a way to make everything work out...

Later that evening after the kids had left, Oliver decided to take his broom out and try to clear his head in the night air. Charlie sat in the house, intently thinking, determined to come up with some sort of solution. After sitting and thinking, he tried pacing and thinking. His pacing led him over to the table where his letter still lay.

He picked it up and reread it. In the midst of reading, something finally clicked and Charlie exclaimed, "Hagrid!" Throwing the letter back on the table, he raced to the next room in search of a quill and paper. Racing back to the table, he sat down and hastily wrote a letter:

Dear Hagrid, I suppose you probably know I've been hired to teach Care of Magical Creatures. As excited as I am, I can't help but worry about Oliver. Our lives have become so interconnected that I don't know how any of this will work out. I don't know what you can do, if anything, but I need some advice right now. Charlie Weasley

Then he coaxed the owl over, sending the letter off to Hagrid. And then the waiting resumed.

The following evening, shortly before dinner, the owl returned. Charlie was relieved to see it carried a reply. Oliver looked up from that morning's Daily Prophet which he was reading. "Anything interesting?" He asked.

Charlie answered quickly, "Just a note from Hagrid. I needed to ask him a few things yesterday."

When Oliver realized the letter was related to Charlie's job offer, he only said, "Oh..." before returning his attention to the paper.

Charlie, on the other hand, quickly broke the seal and read Hagrid's reply:

"Charlie, Knew you'd get it! Talked to Professor Tremlett-Claverdon. Put in a good word for Oliver. Won't say no more here but Oliver should get an owl soon. All the best, Hagrid."

As he finished reading, Charlie tried to hide the grin that was quickly spreading across his face. Trust Hagrid to come up with something. As to what that something could be, Charlie could only guess, and he felt his guesses weren't all that good.

While he cooked dinner, Charlie's mind was elsewhere. He tried not to get his hopes up too high, partially so Oliver wouldn't pick up on anything going on. But at the same time, he knew Hagrid well enough to know that if Hagrid didn't have answers he would have just said so.

The two ate in silence. Oliver was usually quiet, but since the arrival of the letter the previous afternoon, he'd been unusually uncommunicative. The silence was only broken when he volunteered to do the dishes.

Charlie didn't know what to do with himself. He just wanted this owl Hagrid wrote of to come as soon as possible. They spent the remainder of the evening in silence, reading. Charlie had the latest issue of the monthly magazine Dragon Drools, and Oliver a book on the history of broomsticks.

Both of them were almost ready to turn in for the night when something thudded against a window. Oliver stated, "What the-?" Charlie raised the magazine in an attempt to hide his face as he began to smile in anticipation, hoping the noise had come from a Hogwarts owl.

Charlie hesitated behind his magazine just long enough for Oliver to move to look out the window. Upon seeing an owl perched precariously on the ledge outside, Oliver opened it, allowing the owl to hop in and onto his arm. Removing the letter and turning it over to read who it was addressed to, he was slightly startled to see it was for him. He certainly hadn't been expecting anything and didn't recognize the owl.

Oliver untied the letter and broke the seal, confusion creeping onto his face, as Charlie leaned forward and watched in anticipation. As Oliver read, his eyebrows knit themselves closer and closer together until suddenly his eyes sprang wide. He turned to Charlie and asked, "Do you know anything about this?" He waved the letter in the air.

"Not exactly," Charlie replied, which was the truth. He was as anxious to know the content of the letter as Oliver was to know it's origin.

"You're not a good liar, you know that?" Oliver said.

Charlie was practically falling off the edge of his chair, "Really. I don't know what it says!"

Crossing the room, Oliver handed Charlie the letter and told him, "Read this, and then explain. I can't believe this is a coincidence!"

Charlie put down the magazine and quickly read:

Dear Mr. Wood, I would like to offer you the position of Flying instructor and Coach and Referee for quidditch. As you may or may not have been aware, Madam Rolanda Hooch has wanted an excuse to fully retire for several years now. Your response is highly anticipated, Frey Tremlett-Claverdon, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Grand Sorcerer, Order of Merlin Second Class

As he finished reading, Charlie looked up at Oliver and grinned, "Problem solved?"

Oliver shrugged, "I guess so…"

"Something still wrong? This sounds like something you'd be a tad more excited about."

"Well, I don't understand how this came about. I don't believe Tremlett-Claverdon came up with this on his own."

Charlie gestured at a chair opposite him and Oliver sat down. Oliver watched him closely, looking for any hint as to what had gone on. After a moment staring at each other, Charlie explained, "I wrote to Hagrid about the situation. The letter last night was his reply. I didn't know what he had done, he didn't say."

Slowly Oliver's expression of puzzlement turned into a small smile, "Thank you." He reached out a hand and Charlie took it. They looked into each other's eyes, losing track of time. Finally Charlie stirred and broke the silence.

"Looks like we're going back to Hogwarts."

The next morning, both Charlie and Oliver wrote hastey letters and sent them off to Professor Tremlett-Claverdon, accepting the offered positions.

2 Months Later

Charlie and Oliver had forgone the typical accommodations given to professors in lieu of living in a small house on the edge of Hogsmeade. It meant waking up to Hogwarts every day, but it didn't matter to them.

The first day after they got all moved in and settled in their new house, Charlie walked up to visit Hagrid first thing in the morning. After knocking on the door and hearing the clunking footsteps inside, Hagrid threw open the door, saying in his gruff way, "Who's needin' summat so bleedin' early?" Then looking out, he realized who stood on the step, "Why if it isn't Charlie!"

"Hey Hagrid," Charlie replied as Hagrid enveloped him in one of his giant hugs and ushered him inside.

Hagrid began rambling, "When I got yer owl, I knew I had ter do summat. Yer the only person I could see takin' me job an' I told that ter Professor Tremlett-Claverdon . You an' Oliver came along just at the right time. I don't think anyone could be happier than meself…"

Eventually Hagrid began to talk in circles and Charlie couldn't help but interrupt, "And we have you to thank for it, Hagrid. I going to have some big shoes to fill." He looked up at Hagrid and grinned.


	2. September 1, 1987

Short and stocky, his brown hair cut short, and his blue eyes glowing, Oliver Wood didn't look scared, but his insides were doing somersaults. He stood in the Hogwarts Great Hall surrounded by the other first year students. A menacing-looking boy with a square jaw. A boy built similar to himself except with red hair. A pair of giggly girls, one blonde and the other brunette. A scrawny boy with spiky black hair and pale skin stood whispering to a more normal-looking friend. After his brief survey, he felt some relief that, aside from the giggly girls, most everyone else looked as nervous as he felt.

The woman who had met them in the entryway and introduced herself as Professor Minerva McGonagall stepped onto the dais at the front of the hall. She stood next to a stool upon which someone had placed a crusty old hat.

She raised her hand and silence fell. Then the brim of the hat cracked open slightly and it began to sing in an aged, slightly squeaky voice:

Once upon a time,  
A time quite long ago,  
The Hogwarts founders created me  
To upon their students bestow  
One of their names, the houses,  
Into which I would sort  
Each and every student  
By peering into their heart.

In Gryffindor there I will put  
Those who are strong and brave.  
In Ravenclaw are placed those  
Whose minds for knowledge crave.  
For Hufflepuff I do select  
Ones who are loyal and true.  
And in Slytherin, lastly are placed  
Those in whom sly cunning grow.

One's seven years at Hogwarts  
Are often filled with surprise  
And friends and learning,  
Until at long last you arrive  
Upon that final moment  
When you walk out these doors  
Leaving school behind you  
As you walk across other floors.

Now it's time for each of you  
To put me on your head.  
You may think you know where you belong  
But let me decide instead.  
The way the founders decided  
When they placed their trust in me  
And let the sorting now commence  
Into your heads I long to see!

And with that, the brim closed back up. Professor McGonagall pulled a scroll out of the folds of her cloak. She unrolled it and began reading names. One by one the students took the stool and let the large, floppy hat bury their faces.

Professor McGonagall called out "Clearwater, Penelope" and one of the giggly girls, the blonde one, sat on the stool

"Ravenclaw!" the hat announced proudly after a moment.

Oliver sighed quietly. With his name, he was bound to be one of the last ones called. He didn't anticipate standing there alone.

Oliver watched as the boy with the spiky hair, Gideon Crumb, became a Hufflepuff. The menacing, square-jawed one- Marcus Flint- and Gideon's friend, Orsino Thruston, both became members of Slytherin.

Finally, he was left standing with the red-haired boy, the two of them staring intently at the hat. Oliver didn't want to look around for fear of noticing how many eyes might be on him.

"Weasley, Percy!" Professor McGonagall called. Oliver closed his eyes. So he was going to be last.

After a few seconds of hesitation on the hat's part, Percy became a Gryffindor. As Percy stepped down from the stool to walk to the Gryffindor table, he looked at Oliver and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards slightly. Oliver's eyebrows furrowed slightly. If that was an attempt at an encouraging smile, Percy certainly needed practice.

"Wood, Oliver!"

Oliver slowly took a seat on the stool, avoiding looking out at the rest of the school as long as possible. He caught a glimpse as the hat fell over his eyes.

"Hmm…" a voice murmured in his ear and Oliver jumped, "Aha! Yes of course!" Then the hat shouted, "Gryffindor!"

Professor McGonagall plucked the hat off his head and Oliver walked to the Gryffindor table as quickly as he could without running. The only empty spot was next to that other boy, Percy Weasley, so he took it.

Professor Dumbledore, headmaster, stood up from behind the teacher's table. He raised his hands and the din of voices fell silent. Then he said, "Welcome to another new year! I know you've all got empty stomachs and soon you'll have sleepy eyes. So without further ado, tuck in!" He clapped his hands and a feast appeared on the tables.

Oliver dug into something he couldn't identify, but it was hot and delicious. As he ate, he watched the people around him. Percy ate solemnly, all his attention focused on his plate. The other first year students ate nervously, taking bites in between twisting every which way to stare at everything around them. The older students had chosen seats near their friends and were, for the most part, completely absorbed in conversation.

After eating in silence for several minutes, Percy turned to Oliver and said, "So, your name is Oliver Wood, right?"

Oliver, with a mouthful of food, nodded. He quickly swallowed and replied, "And you are Percy… I forget your last name."

"Weasely."

Oliver nodded again.

After eating another bite, Percy asked, "And are you from a family of wizards and witches?"

"My Dad is, but Mum isn't. He doesn't use a lot of magic, though. And I don't know a lot about- lots of stuff, I guess."

"Well, my family is pure blood. My Dad works at the Ministry of Magic. His job isn't very interesting, though. He works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office because he likes muggle things. He's fascinated with them, although I don't know why. When I grow up, I'm going to do something much more important," Percy finished pompously.

Oliver nodded a third time, not really interested in Percy's bragging. Right now, he didn't fancy being stuck around him for the next seven years. As hard as it was going to be, it was going to have to find other people to make friends with.

As the meal finished and students, especially the younger ones, began to yawn, the dishes vanished the same way they had appeared. A few of the older students stood up and calls of, "First years, follow your prefects!" and, "Common room this way!"

Slowly Oliver stood up and moved towards an older boy who had been sitting farther along the table. His red hair was just long enough to put in a small ponytail. Something that looked like a fang hung on a cord around his neck and rested on top of his robes. He spotted Percy and shouted, "Hey Perce! Congratulations on Gryffindor!"

Oliver watched as Percy merely crossed his arms and scowled. Then Oliver asked, "Who's he?"

Through his clenched jaw, Percy said, "My brother. Bill."

Oliver stared between the two in surprise. Straight-laced Percy was related to a guy with a ponytail and a fang? Well, he supposed almost anything could be possible. He followed Bill and Percy and the rest of the first year Gryffindor boys out of the Great Hall and up half a dozen or so flights of stairs. They stopped outside a giant portrait of a rather large woman.

Bill said, "Peppermint toads." The portrait opened, revealing a doorway which he led them through and added, "Remember the password. It's the only way to get into the common room. And other houses aren't supposed to find out. Dorms are up that way." He pointed to a staircase on the opposite side of the elaborately decorated room.

Oliver followed Percy up the stairs. As soon as he'd unpacked enough to find his pajamas, he collapsed in his bed and fell asleep.


	3. The First Match

“Are you going to the quidditch match?” Percy asked without looking up from his book, as he sat reading in the common room.

Oliver exclaimed, “Of course! I wouldn’t miss it for anything!” Growing up, he’d had a vague idea of what quidditch was, but after his first flying lesson a few weeks earlier, he started learning everything he could about flying and quidditch. And the chance to see his first game wasn’t something he was going to miss.

Percy looked up, “Great. Give me five minutes and I’ll go down to the pitch with you.”

Oliver felt his eyes grow wide. “You’re going to a quidditch match?” Somehow, Percy was the last person he thought would have interest in quidditch.

“Of course. And besides, my brother is on the Gryffindor team.”

“Bill plays quidditch?” Somehow Bill didn’t seem any more the quidditch player than Percy did a quidditch fan.

“No not Bill, Charlie. He’s a fourth year. He plays seeker.”

Oliver just nodded. He’d spent enough time around Percy to know he had a lot of brothers, but not enough time to keep them all sorted out. Since Percy seemed to prefer being by himself more often than not, and Oliver was too shy to make a lot of friends, the two tended to gravitate towards each other when they needed company.

Percy quickly finished the chapter he was reading, closed the book, and stuck it in his bookbag. He ran up to the stairs to the dorm to drop off his bag and returned at a sprint. “Let’s go, or we won’t get a good seat.”

Oliver practically fell over a chair in his rush to leave the common room. He had never seen Percy move that fast except for an evening the previous week where he realized he needed to the library to get a book and made it with only minutes to spare before it closed for the night.

The two of them sprinted down to the quidditch pitch, hoping to get seats as high up as possible. According to Percy, who had seen quidditch before, those were the best ones. Oliver ran after him, just eager for the experience of watching the match from any seat.

Evidently most people had the same idea as Percy about arriving early. As the two of them climbed to the seats Percy wanted, they had to scramble over and around many other students. Most of them were cheering even though the game hadn’t yet started. One boy let out a loud “Whoo go Ravenclaw!” right next to Oliver’s ear as Oliver squeezed past him.

When Percy stopped and they sat down, Oliver had a magnificent view of the pitch below. Sitting half a dozen rows from the top, and just to the right of the center, Oliver could see everything.

It wasn’t too long before Madam Hooch, the flying teacher, stepped on to the grass below and blew her shrill whistle. The two teams emerged, one from either end.

An energetic, third year Hufflepuff, Heathcoat Barnaby, began his commentary, “And here comes the Ravenclaw team- chasers Casper Kelly, Iris Curd and Albert Price; beaters Bernard Quigg and Vincent Parks; keeper and captain Gwen Kirkby; and seeker Sean Fairfax! Price and Quigg are new to the team this year, we’ll how strong of a group Kirkby’s put together as her first year as captain.

“And now for the Gryffindor team- chasers Brandon Hunt, Danielle Carter, and captain Trevor Gould; beaters Lewis Lennox and newcomer Wallace Piers; keeper Jasmine Fisher; and seeker Charlie Weasley. Looks like quite a solid team! Who know’s how this is going to play out!”

There was no mistaking Charlie, Oliver thought. He had the same red hair as Percy and Bill except it was thick and wild. And like Percy, he was on the shorter side but much more muscular.

The fourteen players took off into the air and Oliver leaned forward in his seat. Madam Hooch blew her whistle a second time and yelled out, “Teams, play hard but fair, and on my whistle- three, two, one-” which was followed by another shrill blast. She released the four balls and took off into the air herself.

Heathcoat Barnaby launched in, “And Hunt had the quaffle- he passes to Gould who passes back to Hunt- Oh and Quigg whacks a bludger towards Fisher- Fisher ducks easily- Meantime Curd intercepts the quaffle- passes to Kelly who passes to Price- looks like they’re going for a goal!”

Fortunately Price missed, Ravenclaw moaned and Gryffindor cheered. Oliver was enthralled by the speed of the game, how quickly the players maneuvered around each other, the agility with which they handled the quaffle, the whole experience. First Gryffindor scored, then Ravenclaw, Gryffindor again, and Ravenclaw. Pretty soon Ravenclaw was leading, but not by much.

Barnaby continued, “Gould’s got the quaffle, moving quickly towards the Ravenclaw end-- And there’s some excitement up at the opposite end- seems Weasley’s spied the snitch! There he goes!”

Oliver stared, eyes wide, as Charlie began a spectacular dive. No one else could see the tiny snitch, but evidently Charlie saw it and was determined to catch it.

“And Fairfax has seen what Weasley’s up to- there he goes after him- no sign that he’s seen the snitch, though--”

Suddenly Charlie pulled out of the dive, sped along the ground for a few seconds, and ascended with his fist raised. Something gold glinted between his fingers. The crowd around Oliver erupted into deafening cheers. Oliver and Percy stood up, clapping and yelling.

“Charlie Weasley catches the snitch and 150 points to Gryffindor, and Gryffindor wins!” Barnaby concluded his commentary.

Oliver kept watching Charlie. Charlie was grinning and looked so pleased, with good reason, Oliver thought. Out of all the spectacular playing he’s seen, Charlie’s dive and catch of the snitch was the most amazing.

“Come on,” Oliver heard Percy saying, “Charlie told me there’s going to be a party in the common room.”  
Oliver lay in bed that night, almost too wound up from the excitement of the quidditch match to sleep. It had been even more amazing than he’d ever imagined. As he finally drifted off, Oliver decided then and there, that he wanted to be like Charlie Weasley. Maybe not be a seeker and have to catch that ridiculously small, nearly invisible snitch. But he wanted to play quidditch, and be good at it, and do something amazing...


	4. Tryouts

“Tryouts for the Gryffindor quidditch team will be held Saturday morning beginning at 9am. Any interested students should be on the pitch at that time.”

  
Oliver Wood, along with half a dozen other curious Gryffindors, read the notice which had been posted on the house notice board. He moved out of the way to let others read, but inside he was jumping and trying not to shout in excitement. This was what he’d been waiting for, since he saw his first quidditch game almost two years earlier.

  
Saturday would make his second attempt at joining the Gryffindor team. Last year, there had been only one opening on the team- for chaser. Oliver tried out, desperate to play quidditch, but he didn’t really have the chaser build. Now this year, the keeper position was vacant and, after two years, Oliver knew it was the one for him.

  
In flying classes, Oliver had learned he was quite good on a broomstick although he wasn’t very fast. Even at the age of thirteen, his build was solid and muscular, perfect for a keeper.

  
So on Saturday morning, Oliver woke up extra early, too excited and anxious to sleep any longer. As he got dressed, he accidently knocked a book off his night table onto the floor. In the next bed, Percy Weasley rolled over, and without opening his eyes, mumbled, “Sss too early…”

  
Oliver turned around and hastily whispered, “Sorry. Quidditch tryouts.”

  
Percy rolled onto his back, “Even Charlie isn’t awake this early..” He trailed off and drifted back to sleep as Oliver hurriedly tied his sneakers and grabbed his broom. He departed the dormitory and practically ran through the common room on his way out. As he descended the stairs, Oliver slowed down, realizing breakfast probably wasn’t available this early.

  
Oliver’s footsteps echoed on the stone outside the Great Hall. He hadn’t seen anyone else since leaving the dormitory. Oliver opened the door to the Great Hall and went in. He sat down halfway down the Gryffindor table, putting his broom on the bench next to him.

  
Apparently Oliver wasn’t the only one who had risen early. After five or so minutes, the door opened and Charlie Weasley entered. Somewhat stocky, his long, red hair a mess, and still somewhat sleepy, Charlie yawned as he sat down, oblivious to Oliver farther down the table. He ran his fingers through his hair several times in an attempt to comb it before tying it into a messy ponytail. Then he pulled a crumpled wad of papers out of his pocket and began studying them.

  
It was only a few more moments before the food appeared. Oliver realized just how hungry he was, and filled his plate. But with fork in hand, he only picked at his food. With food covering the tables, Charlie looked up for the first time, and realized someone else was there.

  
Spying Oliver, Charlie yawned again, said, “Good morning…”, and slid down the bench to sit opposite Oliver.

  
Oliver looked up from his plate and turned to keep from blushing. Ever since he’d seen his first quidditch match, where Charlie had caught the snitch and won the match for Gryffindor, Oliver had admired him from afar.

  
Quietly, Oliver replied, “Morning…”

  
Charlie began filling his own plate. In between taking things, he glanced up at Oliver again. “You’re one of my brother Percy’s friends, aren’t you?” he asked.

  
He wasn’t exactly sure “friend” was the word he would use to describe Percy, but Oliver nodded anyways, and said, “I’m Oliver Wood.”

  
“Charlie Weasley.” He held out his hand, and Oliver shook it. “What are you doing up so early?”

  
“Umm...I’m going to try out for the quidditch team.” Oliver felt the color rising in his face again.

  
“Ah, excellent!” Charlie exclaimed, looking awake for the first time that morning, “Keeper, I’m guessing?”

Oliver nodded again.

  
Charlie continued, rambling, “Although you’re still a little small for keeper, you certainly don’t look like a chaser, and those are the two open spots on the team.”

  
Other people had started trickling in, and Charlie spied one of his friends and waved. Then he turned back to Oliver, “Well, I’ll see you in an hour or so. I’m sure you’ll do just fine. In the meantime, I really suggest eating something.” He smiled and got up, nodding at Oliver’s plate and taking his own plate with him.

  
Oliver mumbled, “See you,” and went back to picking at his food.

  
After a while longer, Percy came down and found Oliver. He sat down and said matter-of-factly, “Apparently you didn’t have to get up so early and disturb the rest of the dorm.”

  
Oliver rolled his eyes. This was why he was so hesitant to call Percy a friend, even after two years. He said the snarkiest things sometimes.

  
Oliver ate about half the food he’d put on his plate before giving up. He picked up his broomstick, told Percy, “See you later,” and walked out of the Great Hall. There were more people around, so his footsteps didn’t echo nearly as loudly as before as he crossed to the front doors.

  
He made his way slowly down to the quidditch pitch, breathing in the crisp air of early fall, trying to calm his insides. Maybe he shouldn’t have eaten. The butterflies felt like they were going to make him expel it all.

  
Don’t worry, he told himself, you’ll do your best. If that’s not good enough, at least you’ll know you tried.

  
Arriving at the quidditch pitch, Oliver saw a few other people, current team members, standing in a little huddle, Charlie among them. Scattered around, half a dozen others stood, presumably to try out. Oliver was uncomfortable just standing there in silence, but it wasn’t too long before Charlie turned from the team, waved his arms, and called out, “Gather ‘round, everybody!”

  
A final few people were straggling in, and when everyone was gathered, there were about a dozen hopefuls waiting for whatever Charlie said next.

  
"Right, then," he continued once he was sure he had everyone's attention,  "There's two spots on the team we’re going to try to fill today. One is for chaser, the other is keeper. Those of you interested in chaser, step to this side.” He gestured to the left. “And for keeper, this side.” He indicated the right.

  
Oliver stepped to the right, along with three others, two boys and one girl. The group of interested chasers was larger. Apparently that was the more popular position.

  
Charlie continued when everyone had separated, “We’re going to start with keepers. Hunt, Carter, you guys are up.” Charlie flagged over the two chasers already part of the team. The pair of them jogged forward holding their brooms. Brandon Hunt was a rather tall and skinny sixth year with short, brown hair and brown eyes too large for his head. Danielle Carter was a fifth year, who, judging from her sleek, long hair and near-flawless complexion, didn’t fit any typical image of a fierce athlete, which she was.

  
Pointing at one of the boys next to Oliver, Charlie asked, “What’s your name?”

  
“Grant Peers,” the scrawny boy replied. Looking at him, Oliver doubted very much that Grant Peers would make a good keeper.

  
“Well, Grant Peers, looks like you’re up first,” Charlie continued, “Hunt and Carter will attempt to score. Just do your best to block their shots.”

  
Grant nodded, and he, along with Charlie, Hunt, and Carter, took off into the air. Oliver watched as the three experienced players began tossing the quaffle back and forth, speeding around the stadium. After a while, Charlie dropped back to observe. Carter took a shot at the rightmost hoop. Grant’s fingertips briefly brushed against the quaffle before it sailed through the hoop. Hunt went next, this time aiming for the center hoop. Grant managed to stop the quaffle before promptly dropping it.

  
Charlie blew a whistle that was hanging around his neck, and gestured to the others to land. When the four of them were back on the ground, he said, “Thank you, Peers. Next?”

  
The girl, whom Oliver recognized as fourth year Amy Millhouse, went next, and Oliver thought she was actually pretty good. She managed to stop both shots, but the second one only just. When Charlie and the others landed, it was Oliver’s turn.

  
Charlie called, “Wood, you’re up!”

  
Oliver mounted his broom and took off into the air, the wind ruffling his hair. He flew up towards the three hoops and hovered in front of them, slowly moving back and forth and preparing himself to go in whichever direction Hunt and Carter threw the quaffle.

  
Charlie waved his arm, and Hunt and Carter took off, zooming back and forth, passing the quaffle. Suddenly Carter released the ball, and Oliver saw it flying towards him. He stopped thinking and let instinct take over, guiding his arm out to successfully catch it. Glancing up briefly, he could see Charlie nodding slightly.

  
Then Hunt flew over to collect the quaffle, raced back up the pitch, and Carter joined him in throwing it back and forth again. This second time, Hunt took the shot. He tried to be tricky, throwing the quaffle from such an absurd angle to make it difficult for Oliver to tell where it was heading.

  
Luckily for Oliver, he judged correctly, swerved to the right, and caught it once again. He was fairly sure Charlie would be pleased with his performance. Then Oliver heard Charlie’s whistle and the four landed.

  
“Thank you, Wood,” Charlie said, failing to mask all his excitement from his voice. It carried over when he turned to the last boy, “Ready…?”

  
“Peter Mason,” the boy quickly supplied.

  
“Ready, Mason?” Charlie added the conclusion to his previous sentence.

  
Peter Mason was so average, unremarkable in appearance, and boring that he was easy to overlook. Oliver sometimes forgot they slept in the same dormitory room. He hadn’t even known that Mason knew how to fly.

  
When Peter took off into the air, it was clear he could fly, but just barely. The higher he flew, the more he wobbled. It was almost too painful for Oliver to watch. When Hunt threw the quaffle towards the hoops, it was all Peter could do to stay on his broom, let alone catch the large, red ball. Charlie didn’t even give him a second chance; he probably decided it wasn’t worth risking Peter’s safety when he clearly wasn’t going to make the team.

  
When everybody was safely back on the ground, Charlie said cheerfully, “Well, that’s that, then. Thank you, you four are free to go, or you can watch the rest if you’d like. The full team will be posted on the common room notice board this evening. Chaser candidates, you’re up!”

  
Amy Millhouse and Grant Peers waved to the rest of the group, and headed back up towards the castle. Peter Mason walked over to stand next to Oliver, who was watching as Charlie directed the others in what he wanted them to do.

  
“You were good. Really good. And I was completely awful. I don’t know what I was thinking,” Peter spoke slowly, gazing up into the sky.

  
Oliver looked at him, unsure of how to respond. After a brief hesitation he said, “Thank you, I guess. Don’t worry about it, you tried your best. Not everyone is made for flying.”

  
Peter shrugged, “I guess so.”

  
They watched the chaser try-outs for another few minutes before walking back up to the castle in silence, Peter too shy to start a conversation and Oliver too lost in his own thoughts of playing quidditch on the same team as Charlie Weasley.

  
As they sat in the common room that afternoon, Percy tried to distract Oliver from thinking of the tryout results and get his mind onto their History of Magic homework, but to no avail. When Percy asked him to name who was Minister of Magic when St. Mungo’s was founded, Oliver started before mumbling, “Joscelind Wadlock.”

  
Percy rolled his eyes, “I don’t know who that is, but it’s most certainly not the correct answer. And thinking about quidditch won’t make Charlie post the list any sooner.”

  
That last sentence captured Oliver’s full attention, “She’s a chaser for Puddlemere United, and a brilliant one, too!”

  
“Sure, if you say so. Now who was Minister of Magic in 1560?”

  
Several hours later, Percy and Oliver had packed up their books, stowed them in the dormitory, and were heading out of the common room for dinner. As they reached the portrait, Percy with his arm outstretched to push it, it swung open anyways from someone on the other side. Charlie squeezed past them and said, “Evening, little brother. Spent the whole day with your nose in a book, didn’t we?”  
Percy sighed, “Yes, actually. And it’s been of great benefit.”

  
Charlie chuckled, “I’m highly doubtful, but I’ll take your word for it.” Then he turned to Oliver, “Bet you’ve been a bit anxious since your try-out.”

  
Oliver nodded.

  
“Well, I come with answers.” He waved a piece of parchment he’d been holding. “Going to post it now. See you Wednesday evening.” Then he winked and continued walking.

  
Oliver tried to turn around to follow him, to see for sure what he thought was true, but Percy tugged on his arm, “Come on! Dinner won’t last forever and the noticeboard isn’t going to go anywhere!”

  
"It’ll just be a second!” Oliver wriggled free and darted across the room. As Charlie moved away from the board, Oliver scanned quickly for where it read “Keeper”.

  
Listed underneath, Oliver read his name.


End file.
